


Heavenly Promise

by JamieLegend



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abusive Parents, Additional tags will be added, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, DenNor, F/M, Gods AU, Love, Marriage, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Slow Burn, bear with me this will be long, denmark x norway, mythical AU, nornyoden, not too slow but you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieLegend/pseuds/JamieLegend
Summary: They say love can transcend anything: war, hate, age, distance - but can love bring a god and a human together? Is love enough?Will a Princess who was supposed to lead her people to better lives be able to deal with her own destiny?Will a God open his heart and soul, even if it means risking it all?|| Gods AU. The Gods in this work do not belong to a strict Parthenon and are a mixture of Viking and Roman-Greek Gods. Additional tags will be added and some warnings will be mentioned. However, there won't be anything too extreme. ||





	1. Falling.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!   
> Thank you so much for checking this out - this is a large passion project of mine and additional characters to Norway and Female/Nyo! Denmark will be added as we go along.   
> The name I use for Nyo!Denmark is Johanne and for Norway it is Sigurd. 
> 
> Again, thanks for checking this out - any comments or kudos will be greatly appreciated! Thank you and have a nice night!

The window slammed abruptly shut, the sound echoing through her room. The young girl's heart raced in her chest as she sat up, woken by the screams of the midday wind around the walls of the castle.

The stone floor was ice cold as she stepped out of bed and moved to push open the ornate window a little, to see the world outside. 

The tall castle blocked some of the view to one side, but she could clearly see the clouds that covered every inch of sky for miles around in deep grey hues. And yet it didn’t rain.   
There was just the wind, howling as it rolled over the earth.

“My lady!”

The young girl turned her head to look toward the voice, blonde hair lifted in the air from the wind. The old maid hurried to shut the window, before grasping the furs that were piled onto a wooden chair and pulling them around the other's shoulders to keep her warm.

“You’ve always been like this, even as a child.” The old maid laughed as she moved to the grate where the flames had died down some hours before, and began to poke the fire. “My, what would the king say if he knew you still open windows to storms?” 

The young lady laughed and leaned against the wall by the fireplace, watching the embers. “He’d most likely tease me that I do it only to be blown away.” 

“You must be, Princess. But you know you can’t be blown away, not yet.” The old lady straightened up to look the young royal girl in the eyes, blue as the sky. She tilted her head, confused at the old lady’s words. “You’re the Crown Princess. Someday... Someday soon all of this will be yours. Our dear Princess Johanne.”  
Johanne hummed and went to sit by her vanity, crossing her legs and looking at her reflection with a sigh. Pale, long blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin with a dust of freckles on her cheeks – she looked like a proper princess. 

The maid grasped the edge of her chair and smiled.

“Your father wants to see you in an hour or so.” She said, taking the brush to brush her hair down.

“He’s back from the battlements?” 

The maid nodded sombrely. “I doubt it went well... Maybe he will finally stop with this, try to come up with a solution. A peace, after all of these years.”

Johanne nodded, brow furrowed. The war had been raging longer than she’d been alive. Almost twenty years now, constant war from each side of the board. How was this land supposed to prosper if there was more death than life? Johanne hated it and she knew that once she sat on that throne, she would end it all.

“You stir too many storms, my dear.” The maid spoke, catching her attention once again. Johanne looked to her, tilting her head ever so slightly.

“That sounds worrying when you say it like that. And you’ve been saying a lot of odd things today.” Johanne looked back to the window with a yearning expression. 

When the winds were like this... that was when she felt alive. Maybe because, as everyone said, she had been born during the coldest and harshest storm than anyone could remember. How she had survived, being so young, so small, no one had understood. Stormborn – what her family called her was something she carried like a medal.

Her mother would have been proud.

“I can’t help but to worry.” The older woman said, still watching her. “And it just seems like a strange day, my child. The wind must be getting into my bones.”

Johanne smiled, going to the woman and hugging her. She pulled back and rested her hands on the maid's shoulders. “Well, let’s see what my father wants, shall we? I’m sure he just wants me to find all he did well in battle and praise him while ignoring the rest.” She grinned in amusement and the woman shuddered. 

“Don’t tease the king, child...”

They left the bedroom not long after, heading to the downstairs chamber where her father waited. It wasn’t far from her room, but she never liked making the trip to him – not even as a small child. The king was a tall, brooding man, looking like he carried all the weight of this world on his shoulders. He had always been unforgiving, and one whose ambition was too high for what he could achieve.

He still wore his armour, his back to the door when they entered. He seemed to be turning something over in his hands, but she couldn’t see what it was. 

“Good morning, my lord.” The two ladies curtseyed, the maid going much deeper than Johanne. The king didn’t turn, merely sending the maid away. Once Johanne was alone with her father, he turned to her, hiding what was in his hands behind him. Johanne caught only a glimpse of white. She cleared her throat softly, disliking the silence.

“I take it that the battle-”

“It was an absolute disaster.” The king's tone was cutting. “The wind and sea turned against us, our men were terrified.” He spat on the ground in anger. “It was a pathetic conflict.”  
Johanne inhaled deeply, keeping her hands crossed over her chest. “Is there something I could do for you, father?” She asked, wondering why he had called for her.

“I’m glad you’ve brought it up. How is my son? Has he started his lessons?”

Johanne pressed her lips together just for a brief second. Her baby half-brother. A child of six, who still cried when someone raised their voice at him, still stuck to his mother’s skirt. But her father adored him – merely because he was a boy, of course. 

“I assume he has. The Queen tends to him, so you should ask her. My lessons-“

“Ah, yes, my dear Margret. I will have to see her soon. I just had to speak with you first.”

Well, at least he managed to notice her existence – something that seemed more and more difficult for him by the day, what with his clingy child and cold wife. 

Somehow, she never got on the same page with that woman. She was always lurking in the shadows of her life, constantly telling the King that maybe Johanne should go and tend to lower regions of the country or to send her off to deal with bandits. Anything that would discredit her from the throne. Cunning woman, she’d give her that, but she always rose to the occasion.

It was quite something to annoy the Queen.

She nodded only out of respect, looking up to him. Her expression was hard, as it always was when she spoke to him these days. “How may I help you?”

The king brought forward what he had been holding behind him. Johanne's eyes narrowed in suspicion at the sight of... A dress?

It was lovely, she figured. Long white sleeves, lace, and subtle golden detailing. It didn’t seem bulky, like the dresses of those irritating court ladies. It was simple, yet just right.  
However. It was white, like a cloud. A wedding dress. 

“I need you to wear this.”

Johanne looked from the dress to him, nails digging into her palms as she balled her fists. “Am I to marry?” She asked, her tone indignant.

The King chuckled, but the tone was too dark to be considered a well-intended laugh... More so, it sounded as if he had a sick joke waiting for her, that he was just waiting to play out.

“Yes.”

Johanne frowned. It didn’t make sense for her to suddenly marry. The kingdom they were at war with only had a king and three daughters. He surely wouldn’t wed her to a woman, would he? All other kingdoms wed their sons to powerful ladies of the country – after all, the same was planned for her, was it not?

“And who is he?”

The King hummed, stepping closer. A cold chill swept over her, crawling into her bones as the air in the room suddenly became menacing. Had her father always looked at her like that? 

“You will meet him soon. I’ll send your maid in to help you dress. We must make haste Johanne. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me now, would you?” He touched her cheek, making her look up to him. “I expect no less from you.” With that he released her and turned, walking from the room. Johanne heard the door open again as her maid entered.

“My lady, what’s...” Her voice trailed off, but Johanne ignored her as she walked over to the dress, which had been left draped over the back of a chair. She brushed her fingers against the fabric, frowning when something about the middle of the dress felt off. It was too stiff, too cold, and far too rigid. But it was no corset, so why?

“I am to marry,” Johanne said finally, her words venomous. She turned to the maid, who stood looking at her and the dress in shock. But before she could say anything, Johanne interrupted, her tone urgent. She couldn't do this. “Say to the guards you’re going to get my brush and undergarments from my room. The guard that’s always in front of my room – he’s one of Berwald’s. If you tell him, he will stop this. I know he will.” 

The old maid hesitated, the words taking a moment to sink in, before nodding. “Yes, m’lady!” And with that, she rushed out. Once she was alone again, Johanne undid the back of the white dress to see that she was right. Between two layers of cloth, there was steel, peeking out from between the layers. Why was her dress woven with steel?

Either way, she trusted Berwald – one of the lords to come and stop this. Someone just had to knock some sense into her father. 

It didn’t matter though, when her maid started to dress her, brushing her hair down. She gave the message to the guard who apparently ran out the moment he heard. All she could do was to hope that her childhood friend would stop this madness before it explodes in her face. 

The dress was incredibly hard to move in. She couldn’t lean to the sides, couldn’t bend over, and it held her up to almost a painful extent. It constricted her breathing, so their pace had to be a lot slower than usual.

The storm was still howling as she stepped out into the courtyard, where her father stood waiting for her. He was still in his armour, but had his crown on. Beside him stood his wife, looking immaculate as always. Funnily enough, her half-brother was nowhere to be seen. She looked at the guards surrounding her father and step-mother, not recognising a single one. This was getting stranger and stranger by the minute.

A wedding party of just them? Hardly befitting the first in line for a throne, let alone a Princess. Something was up, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“My my, you look just wonderful, my darling! I am so proud of you!” The queen chirped, but her smile was just as obviously fake as her words. There was no love in her eyes, just coldness. Johanne muttered her thanks as she approached her father, who was beckoning her closer.

“Your mother insisted that on the day you marry that you wear her crown.” He said, turning to take the silver diadem from a guard who held it on a velvet cushion. It was stunning, like everything her mother owned. The silver was almost white, with leaves and roses of gold intertwined through it – truly befitting for a Princess’s wedding.

“I still wish to know who it is that you intend to marry me to, Father.”

“Oh, the time for that will come my dear! You wouldn’t want to make a scene now, hm?” He said as he set the diadem atop of her head. He laughed and shook his head, though his eyes flashed no love or merry for her. “Just like your mother. Far more stubborn, however.”

One of the stable boys brought over a white horse, and Johanne frowned. 

“That’s not my horse.” This one was too skinny, too elegant. Her horse was a much tougher stallion, ready to go miles and miles if needed. This horse was for women like the Queen, merely needing to look important without performing any actual duty.

“Come, help the princess on her horse,” said her father, ignoring her. Johanne tensed as two guards lifted her up, and there was a quick stabbing pain as her body – which was a tad small for the dress, got struck by the metal. 

She grasped the reins, but another knight took them from her. Johanne narrowed her eyes, but her father merely patted the horse. “Hush darling, it’s a surprise.” 

Johanne looked over to her maid, who hurried to her side, offering her the white furs to throw over. She did so, and looked over to her father with a stern glare as he got on his horse along with his wife.

And the party set out – but she had no idea where. Her maid followed after her as well, refusing to stay back. The woman would touch her dress every now and then to provide some comfort, but it didn't help much.

This was all spiraling out of control.

Her father had never once mentioned marriage for her, especially since he would need consent from her mother’s side of the family as well. Her mother, after all, left her in care of her uncle and her father. Where was her uncle in all of this?

She looked around once more, hoping to see another cavalry riding in. Berwald with his men, to stop this, to stop this madness. 

Soon the party stopped, on top of one of the tallest fjords that went along the coast, glaring down into the sea. The wind was screaming in her ears, deafening any thought she might have.

The guards once more took her down, and her maid was told to take her coat. Once her maid pulled back, the guards seized both of them. 

Their grip was too harsh and she could feel their armour digging into her pale skin. “Let go of me!” She snapped at them, but the guards didn’t budge. The maid yelled as well, while her father dismounted. She tried calling out to him, but he merely nodded to his guards. Just as she thought that they were going to release her one lifted the hem of her skirt.

Her maid yelled loudly, protesting everything as one of the men tied a block of white stone to her ankle.

“Father!” She screamed, her heart pounding like the wind in her ears, but her father said nothing, stood by a man dressed in dark blue – a priest? Her stomach dropped abruptly.

As the second stone was tied, she was dragged to the left side of the priest. She couldn’t even take a single step, with the weight of the stone. Her legs screamed in protest as they pulled, and she was certain some of her bones broke. She bit her lip until she tasted blood on her tongue, determined not to scream.

The guards left her to stand before the priest. Johanne could still hear her maid screaming, could still see her trying to get the knights away. Johanne looked at her father and opened her mouth to speak, to beg him to get these things off of her and to stop all of this right away.

“Stay still, darling. This is the happiest day of your life!” His expression changed as he glared at her suddenly, his tone dark. “And if you say another thing, well... I might have to ask my men to make that maid of yours shut up once and for all.” Johanne froze, wondering how her father could threaten her so easily, with his wife holding onto his arm as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on. 

She looked at her maid and nodded. She couldn’t have anyone’s blood on her hands, not after they took care of her. Her poor maid... She remembered all the nights she had spent in her bed after her mother had died, the older woman the only one to comfort her. She was just as much as her mother as her own was. 

She couldn’t let her get hurt.

The priest started to speak, but nothing made sense to her. Her legs bled, the wind howled around them, screaming something she could never begin to understand. She just wished she knew why.

The priest continued to speak, going through the wedding ritual, but there was no one beside her. Just the endless sea and the wind howling. The grey clouds still blanketed the sky, and for a fleeting moment, Johanne wondered if she would ever see the sun again.

The pain was constant. She couldn’t even take a deep breath without the metal from the dress slicing into her skin, she couldn’t shift her weight at all, and she could feel her ankles twisting painfully, to the point she could see blood at the hem of her dress. Her vision was getting murky, and her mouth was dry.

It felt like the end of the world.

Finally, the priest asked her if she would take him for her husband. Who? Not once did he mention a name, and only referred to her future husband as the wind or the sea itself. This didn’t make sense, none of it made sense.

“Say I do!” Her Father snapped at her as the silence stretched on longer, and she looked past him to her maid. The old woman’s grey hair was falling out of her bun as she shook her head frantically, begging her to say no, for her father to stop this madness.

“I... I ...” Johanne had never been the frightful kind. Always a strong, willful, stubborn princess. She could use swords, axes, hammers, bows. She could ride horses, read, speak that cursed Latin of the Southerners. She was supposed to be the perfect Viking Princess. She was supposed to be the Queen, one day, and she was supposed to make everything right.

But now she was a lost child. She wasn't a queen, she didn't even feel like a princess. She had no idea what was going on and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop it, whatever 'it' was.

She was ripped back into reality as her father's fingers wrapped around her throat, making her choke as he forced her back to the edge of the cliff. Her ankles felt like they were being torn off as the stones stayed in place. “Say I do,” he roared, suddenly seeming deadly furious. “Say I do, or I will burn everything you ever loved. Your maid. Your friends. Berwald. This whole country, I will burn it all before I ever give it to you.”

She looked at him, eyes full of tears. He wasn’t her father. Every wrinkle on his skin was ten times deeper than ever, his eyes were bulging. His lips, dry and chapped from the wind and brine in the air, bled as he yelled at her, almost shaking with fury. He couldn’t be her father.

But the thought of him burning her old maid, burning the girls and boys she always spoke fondly of the kingdom, burning her one true friend... She knew he would do it, she knew he would.

“...I-I do...” She could barely say it, but somehow she did. The priest spoke up then, and she heard him saying that with her vow the bride is given away by her father to the God of Sea and Wind.

Johanne looked, stunned to realise, in her final moments what was happening.

This was no wedding. This was a living sacrifice. 

And suddenly the ground wasn’t there anymore.

It was too late to realise what her father had done, pushing her off the cliff to the black sea. The stones were there to make sure she drowned, the steel of the heavy dress so she couldn't run, couldn't get away even if she tried unless she wanted to cut her body to ribbons doing so. Her father had made sure she would die as a sacrifice to appease the Old Gods, to make them help him with his war.

And to make sure his son inherits the throne.

The wind was still howling loudly as she fell. It felt so slow to fall, and she raised her hands to the heavens as if that could help. Her tears were flowing freely, and she knew that soon she would die. She would break every bone the moment she struck the water, and the stones would drag her down until she drowned, and her body floated limply like a rag doll.

So this was how it was supposed to end?

Her father, making a mock wedding for her and pushing her off the cliff to her certain death to just... die? 

She looked at the grey winds and nodded. This was okay. She had been born in a storm, and she would die during one as well. It was poetic, in a rather sick way.

However, it would have been nice to meet her husband, the God of Sea and Wind. He must really be something.

Closing her eyes, she gave in. If this is how it ends, she thought to herself, then let it be so. 

She crashed into the water.


	2. Catching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note.  
> The name I use for Norway changed and I'll use Sindre as a name for Norway in this fic.

“My son.” 

Sindre lifted his gaze to his father, sitting on his throne. The golden throne bathed him in sunlight, making him seem larger than life. He knew his father was larger than life but he still preferred to not think of it.

“Have you no plans on returning to your home, to your parent’s house?”

Sindre’s eyes flicker to his father’s wife. Her clothes are darker than his father’s, but her worry mimics his. The woman he called mother until he found out the truth about his heritage. All of that – all of the lies that went around to hide him and his real mother made him leave the golden palace in the middle of heaven’s. And it was to stay so.

“No.” 

“Sindre, please-“ The woman stood up, her hand outstretched to him. He looked over at her and turned his back.

There was a strong force, almost like a spear going through his chest that made him stop. He looked back to his father, knowing he was responsible for this.

“If I stay, I’ll be miserable.” He stated simply, watching his parents, people that he once trusted – yet now seemed as foreign as they could be. “I wish to… go to the oceans. Where I belong.”

“You’ll be all alone there.” His father said, standing up, going over to him, with the woman following after him.

“It’s where I belong.” He repeated himself, making his father sigh. 

“You’re a God, my son. Your place is here.” He said. His wife lifted her hands to hold his face in her hands. “Your place is with us, my son-“ She added, but that made him turn his head away. 

Sounds of rainfall had hit the rooftop, which made his father sigh.

“You have my permission to leave.” He said, and Sindre felt the weight drop off his chest. His wife gasped, covering her face. “No, no-“ She begged, but Sindrer turned, leaving the hall.

Just as he was about to climb onto his horse, his hand was clasped by that woman – his “supposed” mother. There were tears streaking her face, and he stopped, merely because he disliked the sight of tears. The rain that poured, drenched her, but not him.

“Have this at least. Let her keep you company.” She gave him a mirror, silver and with almost a soft hue. He didn’t take it, merely frowning at it.

“My son-“ The woman said again, pressing the mirror to his chest. “I have promised you that I wouldn’t look into the person you’d come to marry, but if you are to leave, I want you at least to see her. I want you to know her before she comes to you.”

His fingers touch the mirror before taking the handle. As he looks into it, the image changes, showing a young… A child. Her hair is like spun gold and she is following a woman who looks like an older version of her – while the little girl’s face has no wrinkles, there’s a few on the other woman’s face, around her eyes and mouth. When the older one looks down to her, the girl’s smile grows larger.

“…She’s a child.” He murmured softly, surprised.

“She’s a human girl.” The woman said, wiping her tears though you couldn’t even see them in the rain. “Watch her. Keep her company. Take her… Take her when she comes to you, my beloved.”

He thought about throwing away the mirror, but he glances back to see something he would never forget.

He saw the little girl, hiding behind the door, glancing into a room. The room was small, a bed inside. The older woman was there with a man inside. He was yelling but Sindre can’t hear a thing. Then the man strikes the woman hard enough that she fell on the floor. The girl ran to her, outstretching her arms to protect her… mother? 

What a brave little girl – and then she was hit as well, as the man exited.

For the first time, he felt rage towards a human. 

Sindre finally lifted his eyes to the woman and nodded. “I appreciate the gift.” He climbed his horse and left his parent’s house.

The decades trickled slowly in his dark castle by the sea.

The walls were ever changing with the mood of its master. Sometimes, they were dark, no light could show you the way around, sometimes they were bright and soft. No person besides Sindre dwelled in the large castle. His servants were beings made of water – they couldn’t respond to him, they couldn’t do anything but the job he gave them.

His only company was the girl in the mirror.

Slowly, Sindre watched her grow up.

He watched her lose her mother – wishing he was there so he could scoop her up and comfort her as she cried during the funeral.

He watched her train harder than everyone in secrecy – wishing he could tell her that she was doing so well.

He watched her become so beautiful, that on some days he forgot that once she was just a wild girl with lots of blonde hair, stumbling after her mother. Nowadays she was a  
a woman, standing straight, bearing so much hate that her father and new mother threw at her. Never wavering. 

Yet he saw her weak moments, when she would sit by the window, holding her face, her shoulders shivering.

The love of his life.

The world of gods was glorious. He met goddesses of all kinds – goddesses of music, of hunt… He met gods of war, of mischief, of all kinds.

His father was the God above Gods. He was the one that ruled over them, deciding if they should meddle in other worlds or not. He was his father.

Sindre was a God just like him. God of water and wind.

Yet he never felt like he was one of them. Ever since his early age, he showed the talent of manipulating winds and oceans – the weather would even change depending on his mood. He was a beloved Prince by everyone because everyone knew the secret his father spun, hiding Sindre’s real mother.

The Gods never interested him though. They were all so obsessed with what they are that they rarely noticed everyone around them. Their conversations were dull, mostly them trying to please him as he was the Prince. Nothing about it spoke to him.

As he grew older, he sought to silence and solace as much as he could get away with. His parents were worried but it didn’t matter to him. He disregarded any duty he was given.

And then there was her.

She was a princess – a firstborn princess at that. She was so respectful to her people, always studying to become even better than she already was. She was so different to him, to anyone he ever met – both God, magical or human. 

The world of men worshipped them. They had little temples built for them where the humans would give gifts to appease the gods. He saw some gods ignoring the gifts, and some appreciating them. 

She was no different from other human’s in that aspect. He watched her visit temples, leaving presents for his father to help her guide her the right way, to the god of wisdom, but he never saw her visit the goddess of love. Not once. Even if all the other girls her age would frequent those temples in hopes of receiving guidance from the gods to their perfect matches, she never seemed to even step foot in those temples.

And yet she, his beloved – the girl who would go to his sacred places, leaving offerings of flowers, cake and tiny ships made of wood. Once she’d leave, he would take the gifts as they would appear in front of him. He discarded the gifts of others, but he kept her ships and her flowers, enjoying her cakes. 

And of course, whatever wish she had he’d fulfill it. If she wished for her friend’s safe travel, he’d make sure that the person had the best possible travel he could manage. If she wished for rain for the crops, he’d provide.

The mirror became his solace more and more as the years passed. He would watch her most of the time. He’d watch her train, talk with people even though he couldn’t hear anything, he’d sometimes glance over to watch her sleep peacefully in her bed. 

He was watching her dance on one of those balls one night, so he made a small trick. He projected the image with his little water spirits. Of course, there was a water spirit of her – he dissolved all of her dance partners, and instead pretended it was her that he was dancing with.

So many tiny things, yet he didn’t want to take her away from her life. 

He saw her training to become a Queen, to earn the respect of others. Sindre even planned that when she would become the queen, he would have made every wind and sea bow to her…

It was then when he saw something that tore his heart apart.

He picked up the mirror and saw her standing in a pure, white dress with a silver tiara on her head, walking down the halls of her home.

Immediately, the walls of the castle went black, and there was a storm brewing like no other.

Sindre had accepted that his beloved was human and he would never take her away from her work to become a Queen. But marriage? He never thought she’d marry.  
He didn’t want her to marry.

His steps were hard as he left his castle, stepping out on the cliff. His father would probably send word to never raise a storm like that again, but he outstretched his arm out to the horizon. Dark clouds were forming, thunder rumbling in the distance as the waves picked up.

Sindre’s eyes flickered back to the mirror and he stopped his rage. He saw how men were tying marble rocks to her ankles, dragging her. He saw the blood and snapped bone as she was forced to stand in front of a priest. A priest dressed in his dark blue – and suddenly the priest's words could be heard.

“Oh – the mighty god of Wind to which we all bow-“

She was in pain, he could see it.

“The mighty God of Sea that our people rely on-“

Her white dress was becoming red by the edges, and he could see a woman yelling for mercy in the crowd – the woman who was always there with his beloved.

“We present you with a wife, Johanne, first Princess, daughter of the King, with the blood of the first men, as your wife-“

His own breath stopped. She was… 

“Say I do!” Screamed a voice, and he could see her father’s image, enraged, holding her. He was spitting in her face, and she looked so lost…  
So scared.

He wished he could outreach and take her away from him, smite him and make every memory of him disappear. From the man that struck a small girl defending her mother to this monster…

“I-I do…” 

For the first time, he heard her voice. It was terrified, but tears rushed to his face as he realised that it really was her voice. His…

And then the image went black.

He shivered, the mirror dropping as he turned his back. 

She would die if he didn’t allow her into the Kingdom of the Gods. Her body would crash against the waves, smash and every bone would break in her body. 

He couldn’t let her die in such a horrible way.

“I do!” He screamed into the storm.

He started to run then, around the dark castle with its sharp edges sticking out, down the cliffside to the beach. He could, he could...

The water was cold as it lapped at his feet. 

The storm still brewed on the horizon, but he stopped as he saw her.

Finally, she was there. Finally, she was in his realm.

Her back was turned to him, but he could see the back of her head, her long blonde hair spreading out and around her, the white dress sticking to her frame…

He took a few steps towards and he could see her face. Her eyes were closed but he could see her. After so long, after so many years of watching her, she was there, in front of him. He could see every freckle on her face, the light red of her lips, the dark eyelashes that touched her cheeks… He looked down, seeing those shackles around her ankles.

He snapped his wrist towards them and they broke, drifting into the storm.

Finally, he knelt down and gently lifted his bride to his chest.

Her head rested on his chest, and he could see her properly now. The woman he fell in love with for centuries was really here. He was really holding her. He closed his eyes, just trying to take it in.

“Don’t hate me like they do.” He murmured in soft prayer before he carried her towards the castle. 

His water spirits watch him carry her inside, following them. They were never told what to do when he brought someone inside. No one ever came in…

“Sindre.”

He stopped, turning slowly to the intruder. It was his father, standing there, watching Sindre hold the girl in his arms.

“You shouldn’t have done this.” He said, watching the sleeping girls in his arms.

“You’re right. I should have been like you father – throw away anyone who could give me affection.”

“Do not bring your mother into this.” His father’s voice was stern. Sindre frowned, and some of his water spirits went around them, holding up spears. 

“Do not even try to touch her.”

“I have no such intentions, my son.” He said, unfazed by the water spirits. “This girl is no goddess. She can never understand you. She can never bear you a child. She will grow old here – and pass away before you notice. Son, just let her go to the mortals’ heaven.”

He pulled her closer to himself.

It was the truth. A human would pass through their kingdom every eon, and all gods would flock to see them. They would shower them with so much attention that some of them would grow mad and conceited. Some were turned into Gods due to their heroic deeds. 

But she was no hero. 

“You are right. She is no goddess. She might never understand me. She might never bear me a child. But-“ He swallowed hard. “If we truly come to love each other… I’ll move heaven and earth… For her.” 

His father walked closer offering him his hand. 

“If you two fall in love truly by the end of the human year… I will make her a goddess.” 

Sindre’s breath hitched. If she were made a goddess, he could… Gently he gave her to a water spirit before shaking his father’s hand. 

“Now leave.” He said, turning to take her back, gently holding her to his chest. There was even a hint of a smile on his face as she tipped her head to his chest. 

He walked, his water spirits following him. With every step, the castle grew slightly brighter, the slow light that spilled through the corridors made the castle not seem so complicated and rigid.

Bringing her up to his room, he gently laid her down on the bed, watching her in her white dress.

His bride.

He reached out, brushing a lock of her hair from her face. 

And with that, she opened her eyes a little. 

His breath stopped in his chest.

Finally, she blinked a little, before her head turned to him and she saw him.

Her lips parted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my lovely beta! You can find this gem at:gnostic-heretic.tumblr.com !


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